


My Home is With You

by KeiKou9275



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rescue Missions, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 13:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeiKou9275/pseuds/KeiKou9275
Summary: It's Kalluzeb





	My Home is With You

Kallus was alone in interrogation, arms trussed up over his head in preparation for another “conversation” with his captors. How long had it been since the Rebels had fled Atollan, he wondered. A few hours, maybe a couple of days? It was hard to keep track of time when all you could count on were extreme and brutal interrogations. Kallus’ mind wandered back to that fateful moment, when he had been discovered as Fulcrum, captured, and brought to the bridge of the Chimaera, forced to watch the Rebel Alliance fight for its existence, and understood where his heart belonged…

*~*~*~*~*

“Governor Pryce, you’re in command of the fleet while I lead the ground assault.” Thrawn stated coolly. Kallus wasn’t sure if it was the head wound he had sustained during their fight or if it was hearing the bravado in the Grand Admiral’s voice that caused him to act foolish but Kallus chuckled quietly to himself. Thrawn heard him however and stood in front of his prisoner.

“The plight of your friends amuses you,” he asked, though it was more a statement than a question.

Kallus look directly into those red eyes, soulless and calculating but oh, so clueless. “I’ve been in your position before,” he said, smirking at the memories of the numerous times he had been thwarted by Phoenix Squadron and the Ghost, by a particular Lasat who saved his soul and all but stolen his heart. “Only to have these rebels pull a victory from certain defeat.”

The former ISB agent didn’t even have time to blink when Thrawn grabbed his face harshly, drawing him closer. “You and I are not the same, Kallus,” Thrawn said softly, though it did nothing to lessen the threat that came with it. “As these rebels are about to learn.” Leaning closer until his lips were next to Kallus’ ear, Thrawn whispered cooly. “And I will make sure to capture the moment when Garazeb Orrelios finds out the fate of his precious ‘Fulcrum’.”

There was a loud crack as Kallus head-butted the Grand Admiral, his face contorted in a snarl as he knocked Thrawn backward. Pryce rushed to Thrawn’s side, commanding the stormtroopers to restrain the traitor. Kallus was brought to his knees when a trooper slammed the butt of his blaster into his gut, knocking the air out of his lungs. Another trooper grabbed his hair, forcing Kallus to look at Thrawn. The Chiss was dusting off his uniform calmly, silently accepting a handkerchief from Pryce to wipe the blood from his face.

Thrawn smiled down at Kallus, full of venom and promises of unpleasantness to come. “My men will escort you to your quarters, where they will begin interrogating you for information about the rebels, their bases, their numbers, and their weaknesses.” He stated calmly before turning and making his way to the holding bay. Kallus struggled against the troopers, fighting to get at Thrawn, to rip his throat out with his bare hands, to protect Zeb!

There was bright pain when a trooper pounded the side of his head with his rifle, and then everything went dark…

*~*~*~*~*

From there, the pain was unending. True to his word, Thrawn’s death troopers had taken him to an interrogation chamber, hung him from the ceiling and beaten him black and blue, demanding information about the rebellion and their allies but Kallus remained silent, even as they re-shattered his leg and broke his fingers. They stopped their torture for a moment when word of the blockade being broken through by the remaining rebel forces came, the manacles holding his wrists above his head releasing as he dropped, falling badly on his damaged leg but blacking out again before the feeling of pain could reach his mind.

Kallus almost wished he would stay unconscious forever, the pain of his injuries almost more than he could bear. He had laid on the ground, too painful to move anything but he had smiled when he heard the guards outside his cell talking about Governor Pryce failing to stop the rebels from escaping, how a small handful of ships had made it past the blockade, including the Ghost. Grand Admiral Thrawn had not been pleased when he learned of Pryce’s failure. Just knowing that the Ghost had escaped, that her crew was safe from Thrawn’s grasp had brought Kallus an immense sense of relief and peace.

He knew that he wasn’t going to survive his imprisonment, either killed by interrogation or publicly executed for treason and to set an example. But knowing that there were people who were fighting for a worthy cause, that the people he had come to care about would survive to fight another day, that was enough for Kallus. It was with this thought in his mind and his heart that he continued to resist his captors for as long as he did. No matter what they did, flaying his back open with neuronic whips, waterboarding until he couldn’t breathe and blacked out, withholding food and water for days on end, Kallus refused to break.

Now he stood once more in the interrogation chamber, his arms chained in the familiar position over his head. If not for those chains Kallus would have collapsed ages ago, his damaged leg swollen and hot with infection, unable to support him any longer. He had lost a considerable amount of weight, his captors only feeding him enough to keep him alive until he gave up the information they wanted. Where honed muscle had once been, only skin and bones remained, his flesh mottled with bruises and lacerations of varying degrees and age while his hair and beard had grown long and unkempt from weeks without care.

Two death troopers entered the interrogation room, one of them wheeling in a tray of torture devices. Kallus remained quiet, his eyes closed as the troopers settled in. One of them grabbed Kallus by his hair, yanking his face up to look at him. “The Grand Admiral has been patient, traitor,” the man stated coldly, his helmet augmenting his voice. “But since you continue to be stubborn, the Grand Admiral has granted us permission to… change tactics, to get you to talk. So I will ask only once more: Where are the rebels located?”

Knowing this dance well, Kallus looked the trooper where his eyes would be and spat. “Go to hell,” he murmured hoarsely, his voice raw from days of screaming on end. With that said, he refused to speak further and looked away from his interrogator. Kallus expected a slap to his face or a punch to his gut but the trooper just chuckled as he wiped the spit from his helmet, sending a cold trickle down his spine. “We thought you might say that,” The trooper laughed darkly before grabbing Kallus’ ruined shirt and ripping it from his body. The movement jerked him forward, causing him to cry out pain as his injuries were aggravated but he didn’t have time to focus on it as both the troopers began ripping off the rest of his clothing, leaving him in the tattered ruins of his clothing.

Kallus felt a spike of fear run down his spine as the troopers began removing their armor, setting it down piece by piece near the door. ‘No,’ he thought desperately, 'No no no!’ Soon, his torturers were bare of anything, eyeing him like cornered prey as they stalked towards him. Kallus tried to back away, flailing to get out of reach but the chains holding him in place. As one of the troopers reached for him, Kallus shut his eyes, praying to Ashla for mercy and screamed: “SOMEBODY HELP ME!!” Many things seemed to happen at once in that moment; the door slid open, a canister was tossed into the room and began expelling smoke, the troopers tried to reach for their weapons but a large form stood in their way, emerald eyes glowing with unbridled rage. The troopers were tossed around like rag dolls, feral growls mixing with their panicked screams. 

Dazed from what had almost taken place and what was happening now, Kallus could only stand there in a stupor as his captors screams died away. The smoke began to clear, revealing a large form standing over the bodies of the death troopers. Kallus felt his breath catch as the figure turned towards him, those emerald eyes meeting his tired amber ones. “Zeb,” Kallus breathed, his good leg finally giving out as exhaustion took over. Strong arms kept him from collapsing completely, easing him up a bit to take some of the pressure off his arms.

Kallus looked up into the Lasat’s worried face, his eyes wide and full of concern. “Karabast, what did they do to you?” He asked quietly, his voice breaking slightly. Kallus could only close his eyes and lean tiredly against the Lasat, his mind finally catching up with the pain his body was in. “Hold him steady Zeb,” A female said from behind the Lasat. “He’ll probably drop like a sack of meiloorun once I cut him loose.” Zeb nodded slightly, holding Kallus closer. Kallus was too far gone at that moment to hear the lightsaber hum to life but screamed in agony as the pressure on his arms and shoulders was released, tears streaming down his face as Zeb gently lowered him to the floor.

Kallus felt something being wrapped around his nearly naked body, opening his eyes to see a Mandalorian wrapping him in what appeared to be a cloak. The Mandalorian caught his gaze and took their helmet off, revealing a woman with silver hair and ruby red eyes. “Agent Kallus, can you understand me?” She asked, resting a gloved hand on his brow. Kallus only blinked, his mind going blank as he began to shiver, a headache beginning to form. The Mandalorian frowned slightly, her eyes flicking over his covered body as if she could see the injuries that lay beneath the cloak. “Fierfek, he’s going into shock. Zeb,” she said urgently as she secured her helmet back on. “You’ll need to carry him out of here, his leg looks like osik and if shock is setting in, he may not last much longer.”

Zeb looked down at Kallus, the former imperial shivering violently in his arms. Kallus knew the Lasat was asking for permission, knew it was going to hurt but he also knew they didn’t have a choice. “Do it…” he murmured quietly, taking a deep breath for what was to come. Zeb closed his eyes in regret, whispering apologies as he slipped an arm under his knees and back. Kallus thought he was prepared for the pain, but what came was more than his conscious mind could handle as Zeb lifted him into his arms.

Kallus faintly heard someone calling to him, urging him to stay awake, but didn’t have the strength to do as he was told as he slipped into oblivion…

~*~*~*~*~

Kallus felt like his body was ripping apart… his leg was on fire… too much, TOO MUCH!!

Hands rested on his head and shoulder, sending a pulse of cool relief washing over him. He felt another hand grip his, warmer and furrier than the one on his head, and a voice whispering to him, deep and encouraging him to hold on, to fight.

'Zeb…’ his mind whispered before he slipped unconscious once more.

~*~*~*~*~

When Kallus woke again, it was to a constant beeping, and a warm pressure on his arm. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting against the bright light overhead. Once his vision had cleared, Kallus took stock of his surroundings. He was in a medical ward of some kind, curtains surrounding his bed to give some semblance of privacy.

He closed his eye, taking a deep breath. ‘They must have gone too far this time,’ he thought. ‘I didn’t think they would ever go that far…’ The corners of his eyes burned as Kallus remembered Thrawn’s men reaching for him, unable to escape being raped… why hadn’t they just left him to die? Kallus tried to lift his hand to rub his eyes but couldn’t move it. He turned to glare at the restraint, only to see Zeb asleep and holding his hand.

Kallus could only stare, mouth opening and closing slightly as Zeb continued to slumber half bent in a chair next to the bed. 'This is a dream,’ Kallus thought, trying desperately not to hope. 'Or a drug induced hallucination. This cannot be real.’ But as Zeb shifted slightly in his sleep, Kallus felt the softness of his fur and the warmth of the Lasat’s hand on his. Kallus had studied many different drugs and hallucinogens and none of them produced effects like this.

His mind raced as he tried to remember what happened. He had been held on Thrawn’s ship… tortured for who knew how long… the death troopers had stripped him, were about to rape him… someone breaking into his cell and killing the troopers… a Mandalorian woman, not Sabine Wren… excruciating pain when Zeb had lifted him… fire and pain, coolness and relief, and then a comforting warmth… then, nothing.

Breathless, Kallus reached over with his other hand, hesitating for just a moment as the IV in his arm pulled slightly before resting it on Garazeb’s head. The Lasat’s ears twitched slightly at the touch before unconsciously leaning into Kallus’ hand. The former ISB agent began lightly rubbing the top of the Lasat’s head, the soft fur underneath his hand convincing him more and more that he wasn’t dreaming. It took another moment for Zeb began to stir, his eyes opening slowly to meet Kallus’ tear filled ones.

“Alex,” the Lasat murmured his name like a prayer, sitting up a bit as he took Kallus’ hand in both of his own. Kallus could only stare, could only look into those green eyes he had lost hope in seeing again. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to remain composed, to not cry in front of the being he loved with all his soul. Kallus felt Zeb releasing his hand suddenly, fear settling over him like a cold blanket until he felt his bed dip as Zeb’s long arms encircled him as if to protect Kallus from all the evil in this life or the next.

“Let it out, Kal,” Zeb murmured into his hair, sounding as if he was on the verge of tears as well. “You’ve been strong long enough.” Kallus sat there for a moment, his breath hitching before the dam broke and tears flowed down his face, sobbing as quietly as he could while grabbing desperately onto Zeb, afraid that he would disappear, would find this was all a dream and he would wake up alone once more. But Zeb just held him closer, running his hand through Kallus’ hair, allowing a few tears of his own to fall.  
They stayed like that for what felt like hours as the past few months caught up to them, the uncertainty of if they would ever see each other again weighing heavily on their minds. But more importantly, they relished in each other’s presence and the hope that came with Kallus’ freedom. Zeb gently laid them on their sides, easing Kallus to rest his head on the Lasat’s shoulder as he continued to let the tears fall.

Kallus shifted slightly, and for the first time noticed that something was… off. Eyes widening, Kallus reached down where his left leg was supposed to be, only to find that it was missing from the knee down. “My… my leg,” he whispered brokenly, but before he could dwell on it further Zeb was wrapping a hand around his once more, bringing it to his lips to gently kiss the wrappings.

“I’m so sorry Kal,” he said quietly, his eyes shining with grief and regret. “It was damaged beyond what anyone or anything could heal… if it hadn’t been removed, you would’ve…” The Lasat couldn’t finish his sentence, closing his eyes and leaning his head against Kallus’. Kallus was quiet for a few moments before he sighed heavily, snuggling closer to Zeb. “I suppose my leg is a small price to pay for escaping Thrawn alive,” he said quietly, his voice muffled by Zeb’s chest. He felt the Lasat hug him tighter, mindful of his mate’s injuries.

“You should never have had to pay a price, Kallus,” he growled softly. “You risked everything to help the Rebellion, given up more than most to protect us and keep our secrets. What you went through was too high a price to pay.” Kallus blinked, slightly taken aback by the fierceness in Zeb’s voice. He smiled weakly, leaning his forehead against Zeb’s again. “I would do it all again if it meant keeping you safe,” he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion and sleep.

Zeb physically growled then, ready to argue when he noticed that Kal’s breathing had evened out, his eyes closed and expression peaceful. His own eyes softening, Zeb pressed his lips to Kallus’ head before pulling a blanket over the both of them. But the Lasat didn’t follow his mate into slumber. No, he laid awake remembering everything that had led to this moment…

~*~*~*~*~

The Rebels that remained on Atollan had managed to escape Thrawn’s blockade and made it to Yavin Four without too much trouble, but then Zeb had learned that Kallus had been captured by Thrawn after Senator Mothma had informed them that they had been unable to reach Fulcrum. Zeb raged for hours, his heart shattering to pieces at the realization that they had abandoned Kallus, even unknowingly, to a fate worse than death. Surprisingly, it was Ezra who calmed the Lasat down, promising that they would rescue Kallus no matter what.

Hera and Kanan both supported Zeb’s request to rescue the former imperial, but the inner circle of the Rebellion refused to assist them, stating that the risk was too great just to rescue one man, even a former Fulcrum agent. They couldn’t stop the Ghost or her crew if they chose to rescue Kallus but they would receive no assistance from the Rebellion in this rescue operation. Zeb had been furious but HERA was livid. He knew the Twi'lek had a temper but didn’t know she could swear like a Galactic sailor and definitely not in Huttese.

After spending another day restocking and refueling, the Ghost left the Rebel base and began to make plans to rescue Kallus. However they were brought to a screeching halt when they realized that Thrawn probably had Kallus on his ship and the Chimaera was surrounded by multiple star destroyers, heavily guarded, and without an imperial looking ship with credible access codes, getting within ten klicks was nearly impossible after their last encounter. So with extreme reluctance, they contacted the one smuggler who they thought could provide what they needed: Lando Calrissian.

“I’m sorry my friends, I’m currently away on business!” the smuggler said with false regret via holo. “I want to help you, I really do! But this is THRAWN’S SHIP you’re talking about here. You’d have an easier time getting into the Emperor’s palace than you would the Chimaera! It’s not worth the risk being on the Grand Admiral’s personal hit list if he were to find out that I provided you the information to access his star destroyer.”

It had taken a lot of threatening from Hera before Lando finally gave them something. “Okay, okay!” Lando said, hands raised in defeat when Hera began growling at him. “Yeesh Hera, you scare me worse than a wookie! Look, I may or may not know of a Mandalorian crew who might be willing to help,” Lando admitted reluctantly. “They’re guns for hire, willing to do anything from hacking to assassination for the right price, though they’re infamous in the underworld for their honor code. They don’t come cheap but one of their crew owes me a favor so I’ll try to swing a meeting for you. After that, you’re on your own.”

It took another week after that before the mercenaries had sent an encrypted message agreeing to meet with them, sending coordinates to an Imperial free zone in the Teth system. They had been waiting for a couple of hours, though to Zeb it felt like days as he paced back and forth in the common area like a caged loth-wolf until the Ghost was jerked about, caught in a tractor beam. It didn’t take long before the Ghost had been pulled into a massive ship’s hangar, unlike anything Zeb or his friends had seen before.

Zeb had his bo-rifle primed, ready for a fight but once he saw the heavy artillery the mercs had aimed at the Ghost, he prayed to Ashla that Kanan and the kid could deflect the shots long enough for Hera to get them out of there. But as the two Jedi stepped off the Ghost with activated lightsabers in hand Kanan froze, removing his mask with a mix of awe and disbelief on his face as he took hesitant steps towards mercs.

A Mando in black and gold armor removed their helmet, revealing a young woman with silver hair and wide ruby red eyes, began walking to meet Kanan in the middle of the two parties. Tense seconds ticked by before Kanan reached out and pulled the woman into a hug. Zeb didn’t have the greatest vantage point but from what he could see it looked like his friend was… shaking. The woman raised her arms to hug Kanan back, her hands rubbing up and down his back in a soothing manner.

Once both sides could see the other wasn’t a threat at the moment, they belted their weapons and made their way over to the hugging pair. Kanan had stepped back slightly, wiping his eyes as he introduced the woman as Keishi Kouen, former Jedi Knight and his one-time master before being apprenticed to Depa Billaba.

After wiping away of few tears of her own, Keishi invited the Specters further into the ship, chatting amiably with Kanan and Ezra. They made their way to a lounge area where they could discuss the reason for meeting. One of the mercs stepped forward when everyone had been seated and introduced himself as Ordo Skirata, leader of the merc group. Although the man seemed decent enough, Zeb could sense that if he were crossed he would not be an enemy you would want to have. After introductions were made all around, Ordo asked why they had contacted them in the first place.

Before Hera could explain, one of the Mandalorians in green and black armor (Corr, Zeb had remembered after a moment) stepped forward while clearing his throat. “Apologies Captain, General,” he said quietly nodding to Keishi to acknowledge her as well. “I recently received a message from Lando Calrissian, a smuggler I met a couple of years back. We, uh, were playing a game of sabac and… uh…”

Whatever the merc said next was too soft for even Zeb to pick up with his enhanced hearing, luckily he didn’t need to when Keishi choked on her drink and a few of the others started howling with laughter, while Ordo marched over to the soldier in question and bopped him on the helmet to send it shaking like a bobblehead, roaring “YOU BET KEISHI’S LIGHTSABERS AND LOST?! CUYIR GAR GETT'SE GAR DI'KUT?!”

Corr had grabbed his helmet to stop it from bouncing up and down, looking as contrite as a person could in full armor while wearing a helmet. “It’s not my fault that chakaar was a cheater captain! And it’s not like he KEPT the lightsabers, just told the ge'hutuun that I’d owe him a favor if he gave them back.” Corr explained quickly, ducking when Ordo tried to knock him in the helmet again.

Zeb smiled at the antics of the mercenaries, so similar to how the Ghost crew acted most of the time, more like a family than anything else. Hera had been trying to hide a smile of her own when she explained that they had contacted Lando to collect on a favor that he owed but wasn’t able to pay up and had offered to set up a meeting with the mercs instead. Luckily for Corr, agreeing to meet with the Rebels had counted as favor paid so he was off the hook once the meeting was set up.

Hera went on to explain the nature of their request, and the dangers that accompanied it. Once everything had been explained the mercs were silent for a few moments until Keishi spoke up. “I can’t and won’t speak for the rest of Clan Skirata, but count me in,” she said softly, her eyes meeting Zeb’s for the first time. When red eyes had met green Zeb had shivered slightly, feeling as if he had been staring into eternity. Keishi blinked, breaking the contact before continuing.

“Thrawn needs to be taken down a peg and if rescuing this Kallus fellow is going to do it, all the better.” She grinned wolfishly, all fang and intent, at her fellow Mandalorians. “What do you say, lads? Want to cause some mischief for old Blue Butt himself?” she asked the others, making it sound like they were going to watch Pod Racing on Tatooine instead of taking on one of the Empire’s most feared Admirals.

The other mercs grinned back at Keishi, a mix of good-natured humor and predatory intent before giving different levels of confirmation that they were in. Once everyone was in agreement, Ordo and his brother A’den headed for the cockpit to prepare for departure. After a few minutes of typing, Mereel located the Chimaera before sending the coordinates to his brothers. Without further ado the Dragoon was on her way, the Ghost secure in her hull. When Ezra had asked why they didn’t use the Ghost to approach the fleet since it was smaller than the Mandalorians ship, Keishi explained that the Dragoon was special. Crafted by her people, it’s cloaking capabilities was par to none. It was how they could do their jobs without and return home without being tailed.

Zeb only half listened to the conversation, his mind wandering as the stars had sped by. It had been over a month since Atollan, and Zeb couldn’t help the knot in his stomach at the thought. His mind had raced at all the possibilities; what if they had moved Kallus, or what if he was dead? The Lasat had been startled out of his spiraling thoughts when a heavily armored hand had rested on his shoulder.

“You’re freaking out enough over here that even us non-jetiise can feel it!” One of the mercenaries had said jovially, slapping the Lasat on the back hard enough to almost knock him off his perch. The Mandalorian wore armor similar to Keishi’s but his was red, silver and well worn, full of dents and scars from numerous fights. “The name’s Fi, by the way,” the Mandalorian extended his hand in greeting, and Zeb took it. “Garazeb Orrelios,” he said, grinning slightly as he squeezed the man’s hand a little tighter than necessary, but Fi didn’t back down and squeezed just as hard if not harder.

Once the testosterone had eased back down to manageable levels, Zeb had asked Fi questions about himself and the crew. Fi had taken his helmet off to be more open, and had actually startled Zeb off his seat when he saw Fi’s face looked exactly like Rex’s, albeit almost two decades younger. Fi had smiled, explaining that he and his brothers had been a part of the first wave of clone soldiers off of Kamino, bred and raised to be Republic Commandos, the best of the best but had learned that they were little more than fodder for the war. Thanks to their father, Kal Skirata, they had been spared the accelerated aging that had affected the rest of their clone brethren.

The old soldiers continued talking about their pasts, comparing fighting styles and if they both knew anyone when they had felt the Dragoon begin slowing out of hyperspace. Fi had grinned at Zeb, helping the Lasat stand before shoving his bucket back onto his head. “Time to earn my keep!” He had said as they made their way to the docking port.

Kanan, Ezra, and Hera were already there, doing final weapons check before they docked. Keishi was making her way down from the cockpit, giving final instructions to her brothers. The plan was that she and Fi would accompany the crew of the Ghost onto the Chimaera and locate Kallus, triaging quickly if necessary before making their way back to the Dragoon. Fi would be a few steps behind the main group, laying charges in case things went south, and for when they made their escape.

“And remember,” Keishi had said as she was checking her weapons, a blaster and a pair of lightsabers. “Keep your coms open. If it looks like osik'la, we’re going to need to bang out faster than lightspeed.” She secured her bucket before lightly head-butting the rest of her family, saying “Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.” Once the phrase had been repeated back, everyone made their way to their positions.

“What the Force does that mean?” Ezra had asked curiously. Fi had chuckled, knocking the kid lightly in the shoulder as he passed. “‘Today is a good day for someone else to die’, it means don’t end up dead.” The commando had explained cheerfully as if they weren’t about to risk their lives on what could be a suicide mission. The Dragoon pulled up next to the Chimaera, silent as the boarding tubes locked into place. Zeb, Keishi, and Kanan were at the front, Hera, and Ezra in the middle, and Fi bringing up the rear.

Keishi had her lightsabers in hand, head bowed slightly as the hatch mechanism finished cutting through the destroyer’s hull. The former Jedi waved her hand before the hatch opened, stepping through to the other side. Looking left and right, Keishi beckoned to the others that it was safe. As Zeb made his way through the hole, his eyes widened at the sight before him, A squadron of stormtroopers lay around them, unmoving and out for the count.

The Jedi turned mercenary glanced back, sensing the Lasat staring at her. If the helmet had been off, Zeb would have sworn that Keishi would have been grinning ear to ear. Instead, she wiggled her fingers in the universal “Force” gesture, drawing a soft chuckle from Fi. They began making their way through the Chimaera, following the three Force users towards their target. Zeb could feel his stomach tying in knots, his heart racing at the thought of what they would find.

After what seemed like hours wandering around, they stopped in front of a locked door. Keishi motioned to Fi who handed her device which she placed on the lock next to the door. Zeb could faintly hear voices coming from inside the room but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Keishi had grabbed a sphere from her belt, motioning everyone back when they heard someone scream “SOMEBODY HELP ME!!” The door slid open, Keishi tossing in the orb which began to emit thick smoke and Zeb following close behind. What he saw chilled and boiled his blood all at once.

Two humans stood nude amidst the smoke, coughing as it choked and blinded them as they fumbled around for their weapons. Behind them stood another figure, arms held above their head and trying to move away from the other humans. Zeb’s eyes widened when he realized that he was looking at Kallus. Gone was the polished ISB agent who had pursued them across the galaxy, replaced by a malnourished shell of the man, trembling in fear and shock in the remains of his tattered uniform.

It took the Lasat a second to put two and two together, glancing quickly from Kal to the naked humans. But once he did, rage colored his vision red. He tossed his bo-rifle aside, feral growls being the only warnings that the troopers received before he laid into them. When he was finished he stared down at the unmoving bodies, a silent snarl on his face. That changed immediately when he heard a chain rattle behind him, turning to look at Kallus. His one-time enemy turned ally turned… something more stared at him with wide eyes, his body shivering slightly as he tried to process what he was seeing.

“Zeb…” he breathed before the shaking became more pronounced, the only warning Zeb needed as he rushed forward to keep Kallus from collapsing. Zeb could smell the fear, exhaustion, and sickness coming from his mate, causing his eyes to water in anger and self-hatred. “Karabast, what did they do to you?!” he asked softly, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. Kallus didn’t answer, instead leaning his head against Zeb’s shoulder.

The Lasat’s ears flicked back at the sound of movement, tensing for a fight only to see Hera, Kanan, and Keishi enter the cell. Keishi thumbed one of her lightsabers on, the gold and black blade casting a soft glow about them. “Hold him steady, Zeb,” she said grimly. “He’s probably going to drop like a sack of meiloorun fruit once I cut him loose.” Zeb nodded, holding Kallus closer as Keishi sliced through the chain. Kallus cried out as the pressure on his arms was released, the shaking getting worse as Zeb gently lowered them to the ground.

Keishi knelt down, taking her cloak off and wrapping it around Kallus to give him some semblance of decency. She glanced down and noticed that he was watching her, so she took her helmet off so he could see her face and meet her eyes. “Agent Kallus, can you understand me?” she asked softly, placing a hand on his forehead while sending out the Force to inspect the damage, both internal and external. Kallus didn’t answer, closing his eyes in pain. The former Jedi frowned, not needing the force to see what was happening here.

“Fierfek,” she cursed under her breath, turning to look at Zeb when the Lasat made a questioning noise. “He’s going into shock. Zeb,” she said quickly as she secured her bucket onto her head. “You’ll need to carry him out of here. His leg looks like osik and if he’s going into shock, he may not last much longer.” Zeb looked down at Kallus, knowing that the Mandalorian was right but hesitating. The Lasat had seen Kallus’ leg, if only for a moment, and knew that if they moved him it would hurt.

Before Zeb could ask and see if there was any other way to move him he felt a hand grip his arm weakly, Kallus looking up into Zeb’s face with complete and utter trust. “Do it…” he murmured quietly, trying to steady his breathing for when Zeb picked him up. Nuzzling his hair and murmuring apologies, Zeb slipped an arm under Kallus’ back and legs, moving in one swift and fluid motion as he stood cradling his precious cargo. Kallus stiffened immediately, screaming in agony before he went completely limp in Zeb’s arms.

“Kallus…” Zeb said, panic beginning to mount when he received no response. “C’mon Kal, wake up!” He begged, wanting to shake him awake but frightened he would injure his mate further. “Alex! Please, please open your eyes!!” Before he could lose control of his emotions, he felt a hand rest on his arm, bringing him back to the present. Kanan stood next to him, exuding calm and serenity while Keishi quickly examined Kallus once more. “He’s out, for now,” she told him, looking up to meet Zeb’s eyes even though she was still wearing her helmet. “He’s going to be fine Zeb, but we have to move NOW if we want to keep it that way.”

It took a moment to process what the merc said, Zeb, glancing over at Kanan for confirmation. The Jedi knight nodded in affirmation, hand never leaving Zeb’s arm. The Lasat took a deep breath, pushing his panic down before nodding to the two Force users. With that Keishi made her way to the door while Kanan bent down and grabbed the bo-rifle, strapping it back on Zeb’s back. Making sure Kallus was secure and as comfortable as possible Zeb followed the others out of the cell.

With Kallus in their hands, the group made some adjustments to their positions. Keishi and Kanan remained at the front while Zeb and Hera stayed in the middle of their group to keep Kallus as much out of harm’s way as possible. Ezra brought up the rear with Fi, thought the clone hung back a little more to lay charges should things go south. Turns out that was the case as they turned the corner, escape hatch within sight when they heard the rumble of armored feet coming down either hallway.

The group got their backs to the wall, close enough that they could access the hatch when they were surrounded by dozens of stormtroopers, rifles aimed straight at them. Kanan and Ezra activated their lightsabers, taking up a defensive position between their group and the troopers. Zeb held Kallus close, his face contorting into a snarl as the stormtroopers stepped to the side revealing Grand Admiral Thrawn himself. The Chiss stared at them with mild interest, his scarlet eyes calculating and cold.

“I must commend you Rebels,” he said softly, his eyes drifting over each of them until they rested on Kallus’ prone form. “For having the courage to come and rescue one of your own, though I was expecting something like this. You are too attached to one another, and there lies your weakness. Now, I would ask that you place your weapons on the ground and surrender. While the knight and his padawan are gifted, they cannot hope to fend off hundreds of shots simultaneously.”

Zeb growled loud and long, daring Thrawn to try and bring him down. But instead of being intimidated, the Admiral simply quirked an eyebrow at the Lasat. Before Zeb could aggravate the situation further Keishi placed a hand on his shoulder, silently telling the Lasat to stand down while also gently pulling him back towards the hatch. She made her way to the front of the group, putting herself between the Jedi and the empire, telling Kanan and Ezra to slowly back up towards their escape route through the Force.

Thrawn frowned slightly at the mercenary, not recognizing their armor or it’s design. “Mandalorian,” he said carefully, knowing full well what this warrior race was capable of. “Why are you assisting these Rebels? Do you not know that they are enemies of the Empire, and therefore, criminals? Mandalore is allied with the Empire and therefore…” Thrawn was immediately cut off by Keishi, who raised her lightsabers and activated their blades. In her left hand, she held a silver and ruby lightsaber, while in her right she held the black and gold.

“Therefore I don’t give a damn that Mandalore and the Empire are sharing a bed together,” she said harshly, finishing the Admiral’s previous statement. Thrawn blinked for a moment, unused to having someone be so blunt with him. Keishi pressed on while he was distracted, thankful once again for the HUD while she sent a message to Fi, telling him to ready the charges. “The Mandalore that you refer to, Grand Admiral, is nothing more than a puppet controlled by Palpatine and his willing pawns. True Mandalorians do what they wish, when they wish, so long as it serves their purposes.

“So, Admiral, I suggest you take your men and start moving your shebs out of here. There’s a line of explosives from here all the way to the prison sector. One of these charges is enough to blow a hole through six feet of durasteel and there’s about two hundred, give or take.” This statement brought everything to a standstill, causing Thrawn and the stormtroopers to go very, very still. The Chiss narrowed his eyes, hoping to call the Mandalorians bluff. “As I stated before, two Jedi cannot parry so many shots at once, which means that you will be brought down before the devices can detonate.”

Keishi grinned beneath her helmet, standing a bit straighter as she stared Thrawn straight in the eye. “I always heard you were clever. Apparently, the rumors overstate your intelligence, Admiral. These,” she said, raising the lightsabers before her, crossing them over each other in front of her. “Aren’t for show, nor are they trophies from a fallen Jedi. I earned these long before the Order fell before the Empire spread its darkness across this galaxy.”

While Keishi was goading the Admiral, the rest of the group had made it to the hatch. Zeb passed Kallus to one of the mercs, keeping an eye on Thrawn and his goonies while he ushered Hera through. Keishi continued speaking but Zeb remained focused on getting everyone through until only he, Fi, and Keishi were left. Thrawn finally noticed that the Rebels were escaping, he eyes alight with fury. He shouted a command to fire, only for Keishi to swing her lightsabers in a graceful arch, sending the stormtroopers and Thrawn flying back.

The remaining three dove into the hatch, Keishi shutting it behind them. They made their way quickly to the Dragoon and disengaged from the Chimaera, Fi telling Ordo to make the jump for hyperspace. When he felt the Dragoon speed up Zeb released the breath he had been holding, relief swelling in his chest at the thought that they had rescued Kal and he was safe now.

The relief was quickly shattered when Kanan yelled his name, causing Zeb to rush to the med wing, Fi and Keishi hot on his heels. His heart dropped to his stomach when he saw Kallus lying on one medical tables, Hera and Ezra trying to hold him down as the former Imperial shook violently, eyes rolling under his eyelids while sweat poured off him in sheets. The Lasat was at his side in seconds, fear and worry consuming him.

“What’s happening?!” he asked, trying his best to soothe his unconscious and unresponsive mate. Keishi came to stand opposite, moving Ezra over to the side as she took off her gloves and placed her hands on Kallus’ head and shoulder, closing her eyes and bowing her head in concentration. The room became silent save for Kallus’ quiet whimpers and Zeb murmuring encouragement until finally the tremors and sweating eased, a sigh escaping Kal’s lips.

Keishi released a breath of her own, her skin slightly paler than normal. “Need to get him to a doctor,” she muttered, moving to rise but nearly collapsing if not for Fi catching her around the waist, slinging an arm around his shoulder. She began to look slightly green around the edges but met Zeb’s eyes before she let her brother card her off to a medical bed of her own. “That leg is rife with infection,” she said quietly, closing her eyes in regret. “I’ve done all I can for him with the Force but I wasn’t trained as a healer and that leg is beyond saving.

“We’ll get you within Yavin Four’s orbit, then you’ll need to get to your base and a healer faster than lightspeed.” Hera nodded, quickly dragging Ezra and Kanan away to begin system checks for their departure. As Fi was dragging Keishi over to medical bed Zeb reluctantly let go of Kal’s hand, making his way over to the former Jedi and pulling her into a hug. “Thank you,” he croaked, beginning to choke with emotion at the realization that he had nearly lost Kallus a second time.

Keishi returned the embrace, pulling back slightly to look the Lasat in the eye. “Both you are invaluable to the future, Zeb.” She murmured, causing Zeb to quirk an eyebrow in confusion. Before he could ask further Ordo’s voice sounded over the intercoms, alerting everyone that they were exiting hyperspace within a few minutes. With Corr’s help, Zeb transferred Kallus to a levitating gurney, moving him to the Ghost just as they began to decelerate. With one last wave to the mercs present, the Ghost left the Dragoon’s hold, speeding for Yavin Four.

When they arrived the doctors had immediately taken Kallus to medical, barring anyone from following them. Zeb waited hours as they worked on his mate, instincts raging to rush in and be with Alex. Finally a blue Twi’lek came out, posture heavy with exhaustion but his eyes showed triumph. “How he survived as long as he did with the injuries he sustained baffles me,” the doctor told the Spectors. “But he’ll live, and make a full recovery. But I’m sorry to say that his leg was damaged and infected to the point where nothing was salvageable from the thigh down and we had to amputate.”

Zeb nodded silently, remembering how black and decaying the thing looked back on the Dragoon. “Can we visit him?” Ezra asked, his hand resting on Zeb’s shoulder. The doctor looked them over, his lekku twitching slightly before nodding. “The patient is under heavy sedation,” he explained as he led them back to the ICU. “And based on the fact that he’s still fighting whatever infection is left in his body, he’s unlikely to regain consciousness anytime soon.” The Lasat stopped short when he saw Kallus lying prone and dead to the world around him, covered from head to toe in bandages and monitors.

The doctor gave them privacy, and after a time Zeb’s surrogate family left them alone in peace. Zeb refused to move from his mate’s bedside, not even when he was threatened with insubordination. He remained glued to Kallus’ side, eating only when Hera brought him something or when he needed to use the freshers. After a week Kallus finally awoke, weeping openly with relief when he saw Zeb sitting next to him. It took time for all of the former Imperial’s wounds to heal, physical, mental, and emotional but Zeb remained at his side through it all.

When the war ended and the Emperor dead Zeb and Kallus headed to Lira San, ready to begin their lives anew though it truly didn’t matter where they settled. “My home is with you.” Kallus had said when Zeb had asked him where he would like to settle after the war.

For Zeb, the feeling was mutual.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mando’a Translations -

Fierfek - Originally Huttese for ‘curse’ or ‘hex’, clone commando’s began using it as a curse word, could possibly translate to ‘fuck’.

Osik - dung (impolite), also means ‘shit’

Osik’la - messed up, screwed, horrible, I used it for the screwed aspect

CUYIR GAR GETT'SE GAR DI'KUT?! - ARE YOU NUTS YOU IDIOT?!

“Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.” - “Today is a good day for someone else to die.”

Chakaar - Corpse robber, thief, petty criminal

Ge’hutuun - Bandit, villain, petty thief

Shebs - behind, also means ‘ass’


End file.
